Praying for a Miracle

Jesu Juva

Psalm 51                                                      

February 14, 2024

Ash Wednesday                                   

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        Have you ever prayed for a miracle?  And by “a miracle” I don’t just mean praying for a long shot or an upset.  It’s not praying for something that has the potential to happen on its own.  Miracles require divine intervention.  Have you ever prayed for a miracle in the Biblical sense—for a tumor to vanish—for blindness to give way to 20/20 vision—for manna from heaven?

        Tonight on this Ash Wednesday we pray for a miracle.  In fact, every time we pray Psalm 51 we are requesting miraculous, divine intervention.  With these well-worn words you are asking God to do the impossible.  Which words?  Create in me a clean heart, O God.  You’ve probably prayed and sung those words so many times in your life that you have no idea the miraculous magnitude of the request you are making.

        Consider the word “create.”  The very same verb appears in the Bible’s first sentence:  In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.  Where there was nothing—where there was only emptiness, chaos and darkness, your God created.  He said, “Let there be light” and life, and there was.  And it was all very good.  And throughout the pages of the Old Testament—wherever that word “create” appears—the subject is inevitably God.  Only God can create something new out of nothing.

        In Psalm 51 we pray that God would take all of that amazing creative power which He alone possesses and apply it (here) in our hearts.  Create in me a clean heart, O God.  That may not sound all that miraculous to you.  But it is.  A heart that’s cleansed of sin—a heart that beats in harmony with the holiness of God—that requires divine intervention.  That takes a miracle.  Why?  Because the human heart by definition is un-clean and un-holy.  Jesus once listed all the filthy things that find a home in our hearts:  Evil thoughts, murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false testimony, slander (Matt. 15:19).  It’s a sewer of sin in there.  And there’s not a thing you can do to clean it up. 

        Tonight I carried out my annual Ash Wednesday smear job on dozens of foreheads.  Remember that you are dust.  Remember that you are mortal.  Remember that you are a sinner in need of repentance and rescue.  Remember Jesus.  Your forehead will probably be washed clean before bedtime tonight.  But my right thumb will be black and dirty for days.  O, I’ll wipe it, wash it, and scrub it.  But those oily ashes aren’t going anywhere soon.  An unclean thumb to remind me of my unclean heart—where the blackness runs death deep.

        How did things get so bad?  Where did things go wrong?  There’s a little psychologist inside each one of us who is always hard at work to pinpoint the origin of our problems. There’s a whole industry devoted to helping you answer questions like: What from your past is causing your current dilemma?  What trauma still terrorizes you?  What abuse still haunts you?  How did your parents make you so dysfunctional?

        King David wrote Psalm 51 in the aftermath of his terrible downfall, after he not only committed adultery with Bathsheba but coolly arranged for the murder of her husband on the battlefield.  Where did things go wrong for David?  How did that fearless shepherd boy, who once slew the Philistine giant Goliath with nothing but a single smooth stone—how could he mature into a man who couldn’t even win a battle against his own private parts?  Where did David go wrong?

        David tells us in his Psalm.  It wasn’t when he first laid eyes on Bathsheba, or when he was anointed king, or when he outsmarted Saul or even back when he was shepherding sheep as a boy.  It was when he was conceived in his mother’s womb that things went wrong with David.  And with me.  And with you.  Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me.  We are conceived and born as fully flawed, deeply disordered people.  You can consult with your inner psychologist as often as you’d like.  You can point the finger of blame at everyone else.  You can try hard to get comfortable with the filth of your sin.  Or, you can pray for a miracle—a clean heart.

And a clean heart requires a broken heart.  Don’t let this Psalm leave you merely acknowledging that you are a sinner—or merely affirming the doctrine of original sin. This Psalm is designed to do much, much more.  For before God can create a clean heart in you, there needs to be a broken heart in you.  Because a broken heart—a contrite heart—that’s the kind of heart where your God does His best work.  A broken heart is fertile ground for God to do the miraculous.  God doesn’t want your excuses.  He doesn’t want your promises to do better.  God wants a broken heart. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.

        David was a broken man.  When he prayed Psalm 51 for the first time he was at the lowest point of his life—broken and crushed by guilt and shame.  Of all the times to ask for a miracle!  How could David ask for a clean heart at that moment when he still had blood on his hands—as he was face down in the dust?  Was it desperation?  Was it sheer audacity?  No, it was faith.  Only by faith can we stand before God, broken-hearted and empty-handed, and ask for and expect a miracle—a clean heart.

        Tonight you have the opportunity to do what David did—to come clean before God—to fess up and admit your transgressions, your iniquities, your sin.  And then to ask for and expect a miracle—a clean heart—a “whiter than snow” heart—a heart that’s joyful and glad and eager to follow Jesus by the power of the Holy Spirit.

        Jesus is the reason for the season—the reason for this season called Lent.  Jesus is the true miracle-worker.  In His earthly ministry He left in His wake multitudes of miraculous healings.  But the miracle that matters most is the miracle in here—the creation of a clean heart.  If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation!  Jesus comes tonight to take away the old—to bear away your transgressions, your sins, your iniquities.  His blood shed on the cross brings you cleansing and forgiveness of sins and eternal salvation.  Because His heart stopped beating on Good Friday, He can create in you a clean heart—a heart filled not with sin and shame, but with His very own righteousness, innocence and blessedness.  He gives you life that lasts forever.

        Jesus will not cast you away from His presence.  In fact, tonight Jesus comes into your presence with His real presence.  It’s a miracle in bread and wine—the true body and blood of Jesus, given and shed for you, for the forgiveness of sins.  From this altar comes miraculous medicine—cleansing for the heart—cleansing that works from the inside out. 

        Jesus blots out your transgressions.  Jesus washes away iniquity.  Jesus cleanses you from your sin and gives you what no one else can—a clean heart. Miracle of miracles!  Happy Ash Wednesday.   

        In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.